


That Box Is Mocking Me

by Dori



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Future, Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-17
Updated: 2005-06-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dori/pseuds/Dori
Summary: Post-513 fixit.





	That Box Is Mocking Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

A/N: I haven't seen the episode yet, and I'm probably going to get Jossed. Or maybe the shot will be tight enough that I can keep believing...

* * *

The ring box sits where he left it on the coffee table for more than a week, because you keep letting your eyes slide off it whenever you walk by. 

Finally, you decide, fuck it, the box is driving you crazy and it's going into the back of your sock drawer, where it can't mock you any more. It takes you three tries before you can bring yourself to pick it up, and when you finally do, you frown, because something is wrong. The box...doesn't feel right, and how stupid is that? How can a ring box feel wrong? 

You almost put it back down, because this is wigging you way too much, but Brian Fucking Kinney does not wig over something this stupid, so you grit your teeth and open the box. And then your hand starts to shake, and you almost drop it. 

You sit down on the coffee table, hard, and stare at the box as though it might just sprout teeth and a tail, because you're _completely positive_ that the last time you opened this box there were two rings in it, but there's only one ring in the box now. 

The big one. 

Yours. 

For one insane moment, you think maybe someone broke in and stole the other one. Then you remember the way he held the box, that last day, the way he touched the rings and looked like he might just break before he squared his shoulders and closed the box with one hand, the way he put his left hand into his pants pocket as he walked toward you to tell you that you didn't need rings or vows to prove that you love each other. 

You sit there for a long time trying to figure out why he'd take it, and when you finally get up, you call his cell. 

When he answers, you say, "Justin, where the fuck is the other ring?" 

He laughs. 

"Where do you think?" he says. 

"And hello to you, too." 

You sigh and tell him hello, and then you change the subject. 

He lets you, and you talk about the move and the place he's looking at for a studio and when he'll be coming back for a visit. 

You tell him you love him, and his breath catches; he's still not really used to hearing that, and you wonder how long it will keep surprising him. Probably not as long as it will keep surprising you that you can actually say it out loud. 

You never ask him why he took the ring, because you've already figured that out. He's right; you don't NEED the rings to prove you love each other. But maybe you're ridiculously romantic enough to want them anyway.


End file.
